


Gardens in Starlight

by EJWalters



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Vlogger AU, based on the vlogger au by mostweakhamlets, mostweakhamlets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-14 12:40:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20600927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EJWalters/pseuds/EJWalters
Summary: A little fic based on the vlogger au by mostweakhamlets. Set after the apocawoops, Crowley and Aziraphale have moved into a cottage in South Downs and Aziraphale has started a cooking vlog and Crowley has started a garden.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Parsley, Thyme, Sage, Daffodils](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20355304) by [MostWeakHamlets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostWeakHamlets/pseuds/MostWeakHamlets). 

Crowley was in the garden tending to his plants while Aziraphale was doing another livestream. It seemed like he recorded something almost daily at this point, but Crowley didn’t mind. If it made Aziraphale happy, it made Crowley happy. That’s how Aziraphale felt about Crowley’s gardening. He thought it was good for him, too. Gave him something to occupy his mind and hands, not to mention it was nice to have fresh food straight from the garden to cook with. Much to Aziraphale’s delight, Crowley’s mental and physical health had greatly improved over the last two summers of their living in the cottage at South Downs. It was good for both of them, Aziraphale decided.

He looked at his phone and squinted at it before putting on his glasses to read through some of the comments. “Anthony is doing much better, thank you for asking,” he squinted again as he read the url, “I do hope I pronounced that correctly. Erm, Antila is growing up well and is a healthy, happy cat,” he scrolled a bit more, “Ah! Cream cheese frosting is rather simple to make, actually. I think it’s one of those things that we convince ourselves is going to be far too complicated for us to do. If you like, I can do a quick demonstration on it. I did a video on it a few weeks ago when I did the carrot cake. It was scrumptious.”

Aziraphale moved about the kitchen, getting the supplies he needed for the frosting, talking the whole time. The side door to the yard opened and Crowley walked in wearing his usual sunglasses a wide-brimmed black hat, and a healthy layer of sweat, carrying a wooden crate full of fresh herbs, fruits, and vegetables, a dirt-covered hand holding his phone to his ear as he spoke to whoever was on the other end. His gardening gloves were hanging over the edge of the box as he carefully kicked the door closed with a mud-covered boot, leaving a scuff mark that matched the others that had been left before.

Crowley walked over to Aziraphale and offered a quiet, “Hey, Angel,” before giving him a quick kiss in greeting and going back to his phone call.

The comments on the livestream went wild at the appearance of the ever elusive Crowley.

“I’m doing a livestream, dear,” Aziraphale told him.

Crowley’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as he turned to Aziraphale’s phone, “Hi guys. Er, I’m on the phone with our godson, so I can’t stick around, sorry,” and then continued on with his conversation as he set the crate of food in the farm sink before moving his gloves onto the part of the counter that was the designated the-sink-is-full-of-dirty-food-already- but-I-need-more-room-and-I-also-don’t-want-to-get-my-gloves-wet area of the counter so that he could wash his hands, “Of course you can come over. You know our door is always open to you,” a pause as he listened to Warlock’s voice on the other end, “You can stay as long as you like,” another pause, “You know you don’t have to worry about your parents. If you feel like you need a break from them or just a change of scene, you can stay here as long as you need,” another pause as he listened and dried his hands with paper towels, “I don’t care what your mother says, if you want to stay here, you’re staying here. You can go home when you feel like you want to.”

The conversation carried on, but Crowley was moving to a different part of the room to continue it in a bit more privacy. 

Someone commented on the livestream, “Anthony would make a wonderful father.” several other people agreed heartily.

Aziraphale read the comment and smiled softly, “He really would. You should have seen him with our godson Warlock when he was younger. He presented as female in those days and was his nanny for a few years. Nanny Ashtoreth. At the same time I was their gardener, actually. Warlock doesn’t call him anything but ‘Nanny’. It’s rather endearing, really.” He smiled fondly at the memory, “Anyways, this frosting is rather simple. You just get cream cheese and confectioner’s sugar…” he continued in his instruction of the frosting while he made it and answered people’s questions.

After a few more minutes, Crowley came back into the kitchen to wash the things he had brought in, “I’m going to go out and pick up Warlock after I finish with these. He’s going to be staying with us for a few days at the least. But something tells me it’ll be at least a month or so.”

“Alright, dear. Could you taste this for me?” Aziraphale got a bit of frosting on the end of a spoon and held it out for Crowley to taste, holding his unoccupied hand under the spoon to catch anything that would fall off of it.

Crowley turned and let his husband put the spoon in his mouth, closing his lips around it and letting it sit on his tongue for a moment before swallowing it, “It’s good, Angel.”

“You think so?”

He nodded, “As far as sweets go, yeah.”

Aziraphale turned back to the camera with a smile on his face, “Anthony’s always prefered savory over sweet,” he said by way of explanation to his viewers, “I think that’ll be all for today. I’ll have a new video out by the end of the week,” he gave a few words of encouragement to his viewers and gave a little wave with a bright smile before ending the live stream.

Crowley washed the herbs, fruits, and vegetables thoroughly before putting them in their proper places and turning to Aziraphale, “I’m gonna pop in the shower. You going to come with me to pick him up?”

“Of course, dear. I just need to figure out what to do with all this frosting now. Perhaps Warlock and I can bake a cake and we could go on a picnic with the Them,” Aziraphale wondered aloud. 

Crowley kissed his cheek, “Whatever you like, Angel.”

He smiled and thought aloud as he watched his husband walk in the direction of their bathroom, “Perhaps we could invite Anathema and Newt. Oh, and Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy. We could make a day of it. It would probably do Warlock some good. And Crowley.”

A few minutes later, Crowley came into the kitchen in fresh clothes, with half his hair tied back in a mini bun, signature glasses on his face, “Ready, Angel?”

“Whenever you are.”

They went out to the Bentley and got in and drove to the Dowlings to pick up Warlock.

When they got there, Crowley got out of the car and pushed the front seat forward to let Warlock in and then closed the door behind him to talk to his mother while Aziraphale put his bags in the boot.

“Anthony, you will take care of him, won’t you?” Mrs. Dowling asked.

“Of course we will,” Crowley answered, Scottish accent and all.

“And you’re sure it’s not any trouble?”

“Not at all. He’s always welcome to stay for as long as he wants.”

She let out a breath, visibly relaxing, “Alright. Just, make sure he knows I love him, will you?”

“Of course, Harriet. He’s in safe hands, I assure you. Why don’t you go in and make yourself a nice cuppa and get some rest?” Crowley suggested kindly.

She nodded, “Right. Thank you, again. I think it’s been hard for him, me and Thaddeus fighting so much.”

“Have you ever thought of divorce?” he asked gently.

Harriet let out a long sigh, “I have. I think it’s been a long time coming, really. I’ve just been trying to make it work, you know? For Warlock’s sake.”

He put a hand on her shoulder, “Whatever you decide, You’ll always have mine and Francis’s support.”

She smiled at him gratefully, looking as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, “Thank you, Anthony. I won’t keep you any longer. He looks eager to get out of here. I don’t blame him.”

Crowley nodded, “Don’t hesitate to call, dear. We’re always happy to help.”

She nodded, “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Crowley got back into the Bentley and drove off.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Warlock asked after a few minutes of silence.

Crowley looked back at him in the rearview, “I know she will be. You’re mother is a strong woman, Warlock.”

Warlock nodded, “I know.”

They drove in silence until they got to the cottage, when they all got out and filed into the cottage.

“You can have your usual room if you like,” Aziraphale told Warlock.

Warlock nodded, “Thank you,” and went to take his things to his bedroom.

Aziraphale looked after him worriedly, “He’ll be alright, won’t he?”

Crowley nodded, “Of course he will.”

“Did you talk to her about…?” he trailed off.

“Yeah, I did. Seemed like she’d already had the thought herself. It’ll do her some good to get away from all of that. I don’t think she’s ever really had the time to really explore exactly who she is,” Crowley pulled out his basket of seeds from under the counter and started sifting through the packets, “Season’s changing soon. What would you like?”

Aziraphale went to stand beside him and went through the seed they had collected over the years, pointing at the ones he thought would be nice and making comments about what he could use them for. Crowley had a large section of his garden set aside for herbs, fruits, and vegetables for Aziraphale’s cooking. The rest of the garden was full of various things. They had a couple rose bushes in front of the house that he tended to, and a section of herbs for teas in the garden. They had two pear trees in the backyard as well. Over all, it was quite a sizeable garden. Aziraphale mentioned they might take some of their things to the farmers market to sell, but Crowley wasn’t sure if he was ready for that quite yet. Perhaps one day.


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale made one of Warlock’s favorite meals for dinner that night and the three of them lounged around in the living room listening to Aziraphale read aloud from one of the Sherlock Holmes books. Aziraphale sat with his back against the arm of the overstuffed sofa so that Crowley could lean his back against his chest, holding the book on Crowley’s chest with his arms around him. Warlock sat on the overstuffed chair by the fireplace that had an inviting fire crackling inside of it.

“Nanny?” Warlock interrupted Aziraphale’s reading.

Aziraphale rested the cover of the book against Crowley’s stomach so that he could see their godson.

“Yes, child?” Crowley answered, opening his amber eyes to look at the child-who was more a young adult at this point, but Crowley would always think of him as his child.

“Do you think my parents will split up?”

Crowley sat up and faced him, giving him his full attention, “Do you want them to?”

Warlock gave an off-handed shrug, not committing to an answer.

After taking a moment to think over his next words carefully, Crowley said, “If they do divorce or split up- whatever you humans call it- if they seperate, you have to understand, it isn’t your fault. Whatever they argue about isn’t your fault, and whatever happens between them isn’t your fault. Another thing you need to understand is that both of your parents love you very much.”

Warlock scoffed, “I know Mum does, but Dad couldn’t care less about me.”

Crowley gave a sad smile, “I know it feels that way, but trust me. He loves you more than you know.”

“It’s not the same though,” Warlock said.

Crowley frowned, “How do you mean, child?”

He sighed, “It’s different. It’s like he loves me out of obligation. Not like you or Mum or Brother Francis. He loves me because he has to.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Crowley said.

“I  _ know _ it isn’t true, Warlock,” Aziraphale interjected.

“How d’you know?”

“Every time I’ve seen your father near you, I felt how much he loved you.”

Warlock raised a disbelieving eyebrow and looked over at Crowley.

“No, it’s true,” Crowley leaned back into the back of the sofa, “He can feel how much a person or place or- or  _ thing _ is loved.”

“I assure you, your father loves you very much,” Aziraphale promised.

Warlock didn’t look half convinced, but let the subject drop.

Later that night, Crowley got out of bed wearing pajamas that consisted of oversized boxers and an old Queen shirt, grabbed her dressing gown, and went to the kitchen for a late night snack, slipping it on as she went. This had become a habit of his shortly after moving into the cottage when his mind was too active for him to sleep properly. He would slip out of bed, creep downstairs and into the kitchen, and find something to nibble on over a cup of tea while he idly sketched something or read a book. He had become much more of a book person than he had ever admitted to being over the last few years. He blamed Aziraphale, of course. He would never admit that he secretly read every book that Aziraphale had ever gushed over so that he would know what on earth the angel was talking about and he would certainly never admit that he had enjoyed them. Heaven - hell- wherever forbid he ever do that. He also had a cupboard full of sketchbooks that he never looked at, but kept for whatever reason. It probably had something to do with the fact that Aziraphale had been horrified when he tried to throw the first one he had fille dup in the rubbish bin. So he had kept it. And the next one. And the one after that. And so on.

As Crowley put on the kettle to boil, he considered the books before him. One was full of words depicting an adventure of something or another, clamoring over eachother to be read, to be consumed by the reader. The other was full of blank pages waiting patiently to be filled. She decided the blank pages were more seductive that night, their patience giving him a sense of calm and forgiveness that only they seemed to provide. They even forgave him when he spilled tea on them or left something incomplete on them in favor of starting something new. They seemed to always win. Perhaps that’s why it was taking him so long to get through this book. The filled pages demanded her attention and left no room for error. Everything was already in place with room for little else. Perhaps that’s why the blank pages of the sketch book called to him. It whispered its call to her where as the book howled at her.

Crowley picked up the sketchbook with careful fingers, a gentleness in her touch that few had been on the receiving end of, and grabbed the small pot she used for her pencils, pens, erasers, and whatever else she might need and set them on the counter near the barstool she would occupy in a few moments. She then pulled a mug out of one of the cupboards and, after a pause to listen, grabbed a second one and two tea bags from the little jar that sat beside the stove. Crowley dropped the two tea bags into the two mugs as the unmistakable sound of someone walking in bare feet came closer to her.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep, dear?” she asked without turning around.

“How’d you know it was me?” Warlock asked.

She turned, then, and gave him a knowing smile, “Your footsteps are very different from Aziraphale’s, love.”

“Oh. Right,” he sat on the barstool next to the one Crowley had set her things at.

“Trouble sleeping?” she asked as she poured the hot water into the mugs.

“Yeah.”

“Me too. I come out here for some tea and a little snack while I draw or read,” she said, “How do you take your tea?”

“Bit of honey and milk,” he said.

She smiled at him over her shoulder, “Somethings don’t change.”

He offered a small, fleeting smile, “I guess so. So why do you come out here? Why not read in your room or something?”

She shrugged, setting his cup of tea in front of him and leaning against the counter on her forearms, wrapping her hands around her own mug, “Careful, it’s hot. I don’t want to wake Aziraphale. And there’s something about a kitchen in the middle of the night that’s just calming in a different way than rolling over to cuddle a sleeping angel.”

Warlock took the tea and sipped at it carefully, “What do you read?”

Crowley thought for a moment, “It depends. Sometimes it’s something mundane like Pride and Prejudice, other times it something that gets your blood pumping like , oh, what was it called? It was about a cyborg Cinderella- Oh! Cinder. Anyways, it really just depends on what catches my fancy whenever I finish whatever book I was reading before.”

He nodded, “What do you draw.”

She shrugged again, sipping at her own tea, “Anything, really. Flowers, trees, stars, the cottage, Aziraphale, you, anything that catches my fancy. That’s one of the things I love about this place. You can see the stars out here. I missed them.” She straightened and reached up to put her hair in a french braid to keep it out of the way.

“How long has it been since you’ve been able to see them in London?”

She thought for a moment, “Maybe a century or so? Time’s a bit hard to keep track of. Some things blur together, other things are as clear as the day they happened.”

“All those stories you told me as a kid, were they all true?” he asked.

She smiled, “You didn’t think I’d make them up did you?” she asked as she tied a hair tie around the tail of the braid.

He chuckled, “I dunno. You believe anything when you’re a kid. It’s when you grow up you learn to doubt.”

That sobered the mood, “Cheers to that,” Crowley raised her glass at him a bit in salute.

They were silent for a moment as they drank their tea, both of them lost in thought.

Warlock broke the silence, “You said all demons were once angels, right?”

She nodded hesitantly, “That’s right.”

“Did you have a different name when you were an angel?” he asked.

Crowley smiled. In some ways, Warlock was still the same. He had always been a curious child, “I did.”

“Can I ask what it was?”

She hesitated, but answered, “I was called Raphael.”

“Wait, isn’t that the name of one of the archangels?” Warlock asked.

She nodded.

“So what did you do as an archangel?”

She took a drag from her mug, looking out the window, before answering, “I helped create the stars.”

Warlock was stunned into silence. After a few moments, he let out a soft “Woah.”

Crowley chuckled, “Woah, indeed.”

The boy was silent for a while, trying to wrap his head around the fact that his Nanny had once been  _ the _ Raphael, creator of stars. This gave Crowley the opporutinity to find something to snack on and open her sketchbook and draw something. She didn’t realize it until she was about a quarter of the way finished with it, but she had started to draw her favorite nook of heaven. The place she would always go to to think and come up with new ideas for the stars she was creating. Compared to how heaven was now, it was as comfy as the cottage that she lived in now. Maybe that’s why she loved the cottage so much. She shook her head to clear it and turned to a new page.

“Which stars did you create, Nanny?” Warlock finally asked.

Crowley looked up at him. His eyes were full of wonder and that same curiosity he had when he was five years old and still learning to tie his shoes. She suddenly realized how much love she held in her heart for the young man in front of her. She loved him as if he were her own. The thought both comforted and terrified her, though it was not the first time she had had the realization.

“Do you want to see them?” she asked.

He nodded eagerly.

“Finish your tea and go get a jumper or something. It’s a bit nippy out,” she jerked her head over her shoulder.

She didn’t think she’d ever seen someone drink tea so fast. Crowley idly drew as she waited for Warlock to come back with a jumper having replaced the t shirt he had been wearing before. When he returned to the kitchen, she closed the sketchbook, finished her tea, and tied the tie of her dressing gown.

“Ready?” she asked.

He nodded.

Neither of them bothered with shoes when they went out the door that led outside. The door was on the other side of the kitchen and led to a sort of side yard. The garden was right outside it, with a wide section of grass between the door and the garden. Crowley quickly grabbed a couple blankets before following Warlock outside. They went to the back yard and he helped her spread out the blanket they would be laying on top of on the grass and accepted the blanket she offered him to wrap up in. They then layed down and wrapped up in their individual blankets.

“Alright, dear, which one do you want to know about first?” Crowley asked once she had settled.

Warlock thought for a moment, getting lost in the beauty of the night sky that had been missing from London for far too long, before pointing, “That one.”

Crowley looked to see which one he was pointing at before smiling, “That one’s one of my favorites.”

When Aziraphale woke up in the morning, he wasn’t surprised to find that Crowley wasn’t laying beside him. He often found the demon either already awake and ready to go after the day or asleep at the kitchen counter or table. Judging from the missing dressing robe, he guessed the wily serpent had fallen asleep in the kitchen again. He was surprised when he got to the kitchen and found not only that Crowley was not in it, but that there were two mugs on the counter as opposed to the usual one. The more perplexing thing was the missing Crowley. Aziraphale looked everywhere, but couldn’t find the wily serpent he had married. That was, until he caught a familiar flash of red hair out the window. Going to investigate, he found both Crowley and Warlock asleep on a blanket in the backyard.


	3. Chapter 3

Aziraphale gently woke Warlock and told him to go back up to bed if he still wanted to sleep and then paused to look at Crowley, who was still sleeping. He then shook Crowley’s shoulder gently.

“Crowley, my dear, wake up.”

Crowley groaned and rolled over, pulling the blankets closer.

He chuckled, “Crowley, love. You need to get up for at least a little bit so I can get you to bed.”

Crowley opened his eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight that immediately attacked the amber eyes hiding behind the eyelids, “What?”

“Good morning, my love. You fell asleep out here at some point.”

Crowley sat up, “Oh, right. Warlock and I were star gazing. I was telling him about the stars I made before, well, you know.”

Aziraphale nodded, “Sounds like you had a nice time.”

“We did. Where’d the little dear go?” she asked, reaching up to undo her braid.

“Sent him inside. It’s a bit nippy out,” he answered, “So is it she/her today?” he asked. Crowley only called Warlock “dear” when she was leaning more towards the feminine side.

She shook her hair out and started to comb it with her fingers, “I think so. Started feeling like it last night when I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m glad you were able to get some sleep out here, at least,” Aziraphale said with a smile.

Crowley layed back down on the blanket, hair sprawling out to make a halo of fire around her head, “Come lay with me?”

How was he supposed to say no to that?”

Aziraphale moved to occupy the spot previously occupied by Warlock and lay beside his wife, “Did you sleep well?”

She shrugged, “Might have slept a bit better in bed, but for sleeping under the stars, I slept surprisingly well.”

“What was Warlock doing up?”

“I didn’t ask. Just made him some tea,” Crowley scooted closer to him and snuggled into his side.

Aziraphale started to run his fingers through her hair and chuckled when she started to practically purr on his chest, “If I didn’t know you were a snake, I’d say you were a cat.”

“You take that back!” she said dramatically, looking up at him with playful disdain.

“I will not!”

She rolled her eyes and muttered something about him being a stubborn angel.

“Shall we go in for breakfast, then?” Aziraphale asked.

She thought for a moment, “I suppose. I do need to tend to my garden though.”

Aziraphale looked up at the sky, “It looks like rain, my love.”

Crowley followed his gaze, “Bugger.”

“You can’t tend to your garden in the rain, Crowley. You know what it does for your health,” he said.

She sat up and started to collect the blankets, “Yes, yes I know. That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

“Think of it this way. Now you can help me with my videos or you can spend more time with Warlock,” Aziraphale offered, getting to his feet and offering Crowley a hand.

She took it and let him help her to her feet, “I suppose you’re right. Did you call Anathema and ask her about the picnic?”

“I did. She thought it was a wonderful idea. If the weather is clear enough tomorrow, we’ll have it tomorrow near where the Them have their hideout,” he opened the door to the kitchen and let her step through before following after himself.

The two mugs that had been left on the counter were gone, replaced by a smiling Warlock with a fresh cup of tea, “Here, Nanny. To warm you up.”

Crowley smiled, “How sweet! Thank you, dear.”

Aziraphale took the blankets from her arms, allowing her to accept the warm mug of hot tea. She took a small sip and shuddered as the warmth slowly seeped into her bones, chasing away the cold that had taken hold of her through the night.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Warlock, thank you.”

He shrugged, handing Aziraphale his own cup of tea, “I learned it all from you.”

Crowley smiled into her mug as she took another sip, feeling her heart warm pleasantly, “Do you still watch Aziraphale’s videos?”

Warlock smiled, “Yeah. Mum and I watch them together all the time and try to recreate the recipes. She always says her favorites are the ones with me in them helping you.”

“Do you want to do some videos with me while your here?” Aziraphale asked, getting out milk and cereal.

Warlock got bowls and spoons out of their cupboard and drawer, “Sure! Maybe we could make pasties?”

“Sounds like a wonderful idea,” Crowley said, sitting at the counter with her tea, saving her energy while she warmed up from the cold outside.

Aziraphale grabbed a blanket and put it around her shoulders.

Crowley offered a small smile, “Thank you, darling.”

They shared a quick kiss and then Aziraphale set about making Crowley some oatmeal while Warlock sat beside her with his bowl of cereal.

“How are you feeling, Nanny?” he asked, taking a bite of cereal.

“I’ve been getting much better,” she reported, “Although it does get a little harder when the weather changes.”

He nodded, “If you need anything, let me know. I can help in the garden or whatever you need.”

“How did you get to be so thoughtful?” she asked.

“I had you as my nanny,” Warlock said.

The two always enjoyed the playful banter that had grown between them as Warlock got older and reached out to her. He always blamed everything on Nanny when he was talking to her. “Why are you so rambunctious?” “Blame my nanny.” “How did you get to be so kind?” “Blame my nanny.” If it was possible to blame the woman who brought him up, he did.

“I’m not thoughtful,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Yes you are, dear,” Aziraphale quipped, setting a hot bowl of oatmeal in front of Crowley, “Especially when you use she/her pronouns.”

She shook her head with a sigh, “There’s just no winning when you two team up against me.”

The tell tale pitter-patter of drops of water hitting the exterior of the house announced the arrival of rain.

“So, what’s the plan for today, Angel?” Crowley asked, taking a bite of the oatmeal.

“Well, I was hoping to shoot that video today. I have everything I need for it now and I have Warlock to help me. What are you going to do?”

She looked over to the rain-painted window, “Oh, I’ll find something to keep me occupied. Might draw a bit, or finish that book of mine. Probably end up taking a nap at some point. Do you have that hot water bottle?”

Aziraphale nodded, “Of course. Would you like me to prepare it for you?”

“If you wouldn’t mind. It’s getting colder and I think it was colder out there than I thought last night. I should have wrapped up a bit more,” she said to herself.

“Why don’t you go sit on the sofa and I’ll get the hot water bottle for you,” Aziraphale offered.

She smiled at him, “Thank you, my love,” and took the bowl of oatmeal with her to the sofa where she sat and wrapped up with a thick quilt that Anathema had made with the help of Newt, the Them, Madame Tracy, Sergeant Shadwell, and Warlock. It was one of her most prized possessions. And it was incredibly warm, which made it indispensable during the winter months that were quickly approaching.

“If you need anything, Nanny, give me a shout,” Warlock offered.

She nodded, “I will, love. Thank you.”

At the same time she loved the affection everyone gave her during the cold season or anytime she felt a little worse for wear, she sometimes felt smothered by it. Sometimes all she wanted was to be left alone to be able to recuperate by herself. Of course, she would always need Aziraphale to look after her. He was very attentive and knew exactly when she needed him to coddle her and when she needed a bit more space. How lucky she was to find a husband as kind as him. She thanked her lucky stars for him every day.


End file.
